Parler Avec Moi?
by student.of.the.game
Summary: Fluffy Canada and France one-shot, France visiting Canada.


Canada-

Canada hummed an old French song to himself as he read by the fire. Today he'd felt particularly Quebeçois, probably thanks to the coming vote on whether or not Quebec should separate. Every year, the same thing. It disheartened him now, as he knew that the move would never succeed. After all, there was no Quebec nation that he had met. Still, it was always around this time of year that Francis tended to come and visit him for a few days, claiming that he wanted to spend time with someone else who could speak French with him. He chuckled as he thought of Francis's joy at speaking with him, though the older nation always made fun of his distinctly Quebeçois curses, though he rarely used them.

Still humming, he managed to put a finger on the tune as Kumajirou slept at his feet. Frere Jacques, how ironic. Mentally, he changed the words for his own amusement, Frere Francis, Frere Francis... He enjoyed speaking French with his once-father as much as France enjoyed speaking it with him, though he rarely mentioned it. America was, despite being one of Canada's closer friends, much to self-centred and convinced of American superiority to bother learning another language, to Canada's irritation.

Canada sighed as he realized he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had been reading the same paragraph over and over again. Gently, he set the book down on the low coffee table before stretching and padding over to the kitchen. He smiled as he thought of the delicious French food that he would be eating once France arrived. Though Canada's cooking was certainly better than America's, nothing quite compared to France's cooking. He kept humming softly to himself as he heated up some milk on the stove and reached around for the hot chocolate. Once the milk was heated, he spooned in the cocoa and poured it into a mug. Sipping slowly, he looked out the window. The evergreens were, as always, one of the only sparks of colour in the Canadian winter. It had snowed the night before, and so the ground was soft and white, with icicles hanging from the roof of the A-frame chalet he was staying at.

Though Canada had a house in each province and territory, he loved this chalet in the Rockies. There was a skiing resort just a few kilometres away through the forest, an easy ski as Canada knew a trail. He kept the house well stocked with skis, snowboards and ski-doos, as well as ice hockey gear (the closest town had a great ice rink. Sometimes he invited America over to play against him, but America often got annoyed because Canada always won.). He chuckled again as he thought of trying to convince France to try out ice hockey. Non, non mon frere! France was too much of a pretty boy at heart to be good at hockey, though he was fairly talented on skates. Canada giggled as he remembered France's shock when he had shown him pictures of some of the local town's best players that were up on the rink's wall. Ahh, mon dieu! What happened to their teeth!, as his immediate response.

Canada smiled, absently grabbing another log from the stack next to the fireplace and throwing it in before stoking the fire with a practiced hand. He took another sip of the hot chocolate and smiled as Kumajirou rolled over in his sleep, making soft whuffing noises in his dreams. As Canada sat and sipped his hot chocolate, he watched the fire as it blazed in the hearth. Frere Jacques was still playing in his head, so he stood again and plugged in his iPod to the high-end speaker system he'd had installed in his house. Smiling, he set it to something completely different. Finger 11 was a Canadian band from the western part of the country that he liked, and it easily drowned out the endless tune of Frere Jacques. Humming along, Canada sat back down in his armchair and smiled. Often, in winter, he tended to be a bit like Kumajirou and sleep a lot, when he wasn't outside. Just as he was considering having a nap, a light rap sounded on his door.

"Salut France!" He said as he opened the door as France kissed his cheeks in greeting. "Bonjour, Canada. Ah, j'adore parler dans Français avec toi! Angleterre, bâtard..." And so France launched into telling him all about England's latest screw-up. Canada, despite himself, laughed along with the Frenchman. Easily, they chatted in French about the last world meeting, America's latest plans and the issue of Prussia attending meetings. As always, Canada's French flowed easily around the other nation. France himself never lost the delighted look that he'd been wearing since Canada had said salut.

"Ahh, France, qu'est-ce tu desiree? Il y a du chocolate chaud et du vine."  
Canada asked. "Du vine? Est-qu rouge ou blanc?" French asked in reply, smiling as Canada replied, "Rouge, bien sûr." Smiling, Canada poured his guest some red wine. "You know, it's only cinqante heures." Canada remarked, teasingly. "C'est vingt heures in Paris!" Countered the jet-lagged nation. Canada laughed at that, though he could see the shadows and slightly puffy eyes that seemed to plague the European nations after long flights. As France sipped his wine, Canada sat next to him, prompting Kumajirou to finally open his eyes. The bear was as used to France as Canada though, and while he didn't exactly like the other nation, he tolerated him. That was as good as Kumajirou got when it came to nations other than Canada. He positively despised America.

France sighed happily, "Mon dieu, it feels like its been ages since I've spoken in French with another!" Canada nodded in agreement. "Ouais, Amerique, mon frere, is too much of an inconsiderate bastard to bother learning anything beyond a few phrases in any other languages." France groaned in agreement. "Merde, and his pronunciation is abhorrent. Truly, he tried to say 'bonjour' the other day and I nearly wept! He and England both, truly he is still England's at heart I think." Canada smiled at the Frenchman as they laughed over America and England. Though France did not visit Canada very often, they both enjoyed each other's company. Indeed, France was one of the only other nations who could easily tell Canada apart from America-and was more pleased to find Canada.

"Mais, Canada, I am still exhausted from the flight. Remind me where my room is, s'il vous plait?" France asked. Canada smiled and stood, motioning for France to follow him. "It's on the second floor, à côté de ma chambre."  
"Ahh, pauvre moi! You won't let me share your room?" France asked teasingly. Canada took it in stride, laughing in return. "You look to tired to be worrying about sharing rooms, mon ami." Canada replied as France let out a yawn. Yawning again, the exhausted nation walked into his room, smiling as he saw the huge floor to ceiling windows and the black-out curtains that could be drawn. Whistling, he pulled off his shirt, turning as Canada drug his eyes away from France's muscled back. "You like what you see? Je ne suis pas too tired for you, mon ami." Canada blushed slightly and turned. "Angleterre would be jealous." He said as he left the room, blocking any fantasies about France from his mind.

AUTHOR NOTES

Okay, I admit it. Canada's being a bit ooc, what with his apparent confidence and teasing of France. Still, I have reason for this! France helped to raise Canada, and is still one of his closest friends. It's only natural for Canada to be more relaxed and confident around him. Also, it's winter and they're in Canada. It's Canada's home turf, and that counts for something.

I'm thinking of keeping this as just that one-shot I wrote for fun (I just really like writing them together), but if anyone wants to see more, let me know and I'll keep going with it! I do really love Franada, after all. Still, this isn't going to distract from my UlquiHime fic as that's my main project at the moment, so the updates on this might be a bit slow if I decide to keep going with it.

Also! I really hate writing in French and then putting translations next to it, so I'm working it like this. If there is ANY French in the sentence, it was spoken ENTIRELY IN FRENCH. If there's no French whatsoever in the sentence, it was spoken entirely in English. If you want translations of the first few conversations that were spoken entirely in French, either google-translate (should give you a close enough idea) or ask me and I'll provide translations for whatever sentence/phrase/word you're interested in.

-/- .


End file.
